The Blood That Bonds (15 page)

Two smiled. “You are. Glad I could return
the favor.”

* * *

The trio crested a hill, stopped for a
moment, looked down upon the town below them. Melissa turned to
Two.

“
I swear to God, I don’t
know why Abraham makes us live so far outside of the city. Look at
this. It’s eleven o’clock and almost every light in the town is
out!”

Two shrugged. Behind her, Theroen
laughed.

“
That is precisely why he
has us live so far outside of the city, Melissa. It allows us some
privacy, away from prying eyes. We lived in Manhattan during the
first century we spent here, and it caused us nothing but trouble.
I personally had to dispatch four intrepid vampire hunters, and one
priest.”

“
Priest.” Two looked up at
him. “You never finished telling me about how you became a vampire,
Theroen.”

“
Did you tell her about
Father Leopold?” Melissa laughed, peals of silver in the
night.

“
Father Leopold.” Theroen’s
voice held a smile as well. “No, I don’t believe we reached that
point in the story. Father Leopold is almost personally responsible
for my vampirism. I say almost because modern science and
psychology have helped me to understand that his actions were
probably not entirely under his control.

Two looked at Theroen, head tilted, saying
nothing. Melissa sat down on the curb under a streetlight, leaned
back on her arms, stretched.

“
We have time, Theroen,”
she said.

“
Are you that anxious to
hear it again, Melissa? I recall – only a few years ago – you
shouting something along the lines of ‘forget that dead pope’ at
me.”

“
That’s only because you
were in one of your theological phases, with all the questioning
about God and all that crap. I was tired of it.” Melissa’s teeth
gleamed, her smile having returned from its earlier
departure.

“
Ah. Yes. God and all that
crap. Exactly what I was obsessed with at the time Abraham brought
me into darkness.”

“
He talks like some Goth
poet wannabe. Have you heard him talk about sex?” Melissa’s tone
was conspiratorial, but Two knew Theroen had heard it, despite
appearing not to notice. She covered a smile with her
hand.

“
Father Leopold had one
outstanding flaw that put him somewhat at odds with the church,
though he had gone to great pains to make sure the church was
unaware of it. I would likely have been his undoing, if not for my
encounter with Abraham. Father Leopold, it turns out, was very fond
of young men with a fervent belief in God.”

“
Oh, no …” Two was smiling,
shaking her head.

“
It took five years. I was
under his tutelage for that long, from the age of eighteen to
twenty-three. I can honestly say I never knew, and never saw it
coming. We were closing up the cathedral for the night. It was
dark. Empty and warm. I have the suspicion that Leopold may also
have been availing himself of some drink that night.” Theroen
paused, rolled his eyes. “I assure you, there are few things more
surprising in life than an unexpected kiss from a middle-aged
priest. One of those things, though, would be the feel of his hand
pressing against your groin.”

Melissa exploded into laughter. Theroen
coughed, seemed to be holding back laughter of his own. He shook
his head. Two grinned, nodded. “I imagine that’s the case.”

“
The vampires I know are
sexual creatures, barring Abraham, and they don’t necessarily
adhere to traditional sexual values.” Theroen glanced at Melissa,
who waved at him, still giggling. “Learning more about sexuality
since my days as a priest has … opened my eyes significantly. I
would not be bothered at all, at this stage of my life, though I
can’t claim to have any particular attraction to men of any age.
But then? I was horrified. Here was the man who had taken me under
his wing, taught me many things about the good book, solidified in
me my belief that I wanted to be ordained and helped me see it
through …”

“
And there he was trying to
cop a feel in the middle of a fucking
church
!” Melissa rolled backwards in
the grass, clutching her knees to her chest, laughter renewed.
“It’s not that I care, I just … I can picture Theroen’s face. Oh my
god, I’m going to die.”

“
I was actually so startled
that, in my confusion, I asked him if he was hurt. As absurd as it
was, my brain had decided that he was perhaps having a stroke or
heart attack, and had simply fallen against me.”

Melissa howled laughter at the moon. “Stop
it, Theroen! My stomach hurts!”

Her laughter was contagious, and Two found
herself joining, although she did not find the scene that Theroen
described to be nearly as amusing as Melissa. Funny, sure, but
perhaps the age she had lived in had inured her to these
things.

Finally, Melissa’s laughter died down. She
lay on the grass, looking up at the night sky, gasping for air and
breaking into giggles here and there.

“
May I continue?” There was
a half-smile on Theroen’s lips.

“
Yes, please.” Two looked
back to him.

“
I’m sorry, Two. Really. I
mean, it’s
Theroen
. Anyone else, it wouldn’t be that funny. You
know?”

Two smiled. Nodded. She knew.

“
When I was finally able to
accept what had happened – and no one had moved, mind you. We both
seemed frozen after I had stepped away – I shouted something about
God’s wrath and stormed from the church. I could hear Father
Leopold stammering, shuffling behind me, calling me back, but it
was far too late for that. I was in the London streets, the night
was still early, and I let the crowd swallow me.”

“
I walked for some time
without really thinking of anything other than the punishments God
would surely hurl down upon Leopold. Plague, a rain of fire and
brimstone … something. And yet, the longer I walked, the more I
came to realize that this, of course, could not have been some
spontaneous conversion on Leopold’s part. He must have been
fighting his urges for quite some time before at last giving in,
and for all I knew, I was not the first he had
approached.

“
How was it possible? How
could God permit it? How could He let this man, filled with such
impurity, become not only His servant, but the head of a large
cathedral. It was impossible. Yet it had happened.”

Theroen was looking at the moon again. He
smiled.

“
Eventually my wandering
led me to a graveyard. Chance? Fate? I don’t know. I could not
remember the path I had taken to get there, but it mattered little.
I sat with my head bowed on a stone bench for some time, until
finally I implored God to deliver me from this confusion, and light
my path before me.

“
God did not answer, but
from the darkness beyond the graves a voice whispered to me.
Abraham’s voice.”

Two shuddered. Her brief meeting with
Abraham was still crystal-clear in her mind. She wondered if it
would ever fade.

“
Unlikely,” Theroen said.
“He has that effect on people. I remember this first meeting with
him like it was yesterday.”

“
You remember everything
like it was yesterday, and stop reading her mind. That’s not fair.”
Melissa was sitting up again, leaning her elbows against her knees,
chin resting on her palms, grinning at them.

“
My apologies,
Melissa.”

“
You’re just a big showoff!
You know Abraham has to be close to people to do it, and you know I
can’t do it much at all.”

Theroen shrugged. “It is a gift I am
thankful for. I will be curious to see if I have passed it on to
Two.”

“
He got all the good
genes,” Melissa said. “I’d be jealous, but I don’t have to talk to
Abraham, so I figure it’s a fair trade.”

“
What did Abraham say to
you, Theroen?” Two was filled with curiosity. She could not imagine
Theroen, or at least the young priest he had been, willingly
accepting the vampire life.

* * *

“
If ever your God was
listening, little sheep, he has long since gone deaf.”

The voice was no more than a whisper, but it
cut through Theroen like a white-hot blade. He sat up, thoughts of
Leopold’s actions forgotten, hair on the back of his neck standing
on end, adrenaline surging through his veins. The depth of the
voice, the malice it contained, was unlike anything Theroen had
heard before. He groped at the edge of the bench instinctively,
searching desperately for defense against this sudden assault on
his courage.

After a moment, he found his shield: anger
at the words themselves. Theroen stood, eyes burning into the
darkness.

“
What creature might speak
so to a man of the cloth? Show yourself!”

A chuckle. Unearthly. Theroen was gripped
with an animal urge to turn and flee, to simply run as fast as he
could in a straight line away from this spot. He resisted.

“
Show myself? Would that
you knew what you ask, mortal fool.”

“
I ask not. I command. I
command with the word of the Lord.”

“
That word means nothing to
me, even should He make such demands of me in person. Run, little
priest. Why don’t you run? You lie in mortal peril, and you know
it.”

“
I shall fear no
evil.”

More laughter. “No? We shall see. I answer
your demand, priest.”

In the shadows there was movement, red eyes
opening in the dark. Theroen took an involuntary step backward. His
knees hit the bench, forcing him to a sitting position. Before he
could regain his footing, the creature was upon him. Theroen saw
only blurred flashes, so quickly did the thing move. Talons now
stretching to him, and then an iron grip around his midsection. Red
eyes. Gaping mouth. Sharp white fangs. He beat at the creature with
his fists, and it seemed he beat upon the stone of the cathedral
walls themselves.

Warm breath against his ear, sharp points
against his neck.

“
I shall fear no evil!”
Theroen cried, terrified and desperate. “Save me, oh
Lord!”

The creature paused, and that horrible
laughter came again.

“
Your Lord is busy,
perhaps? I bring you death, Theroen Anders. You gave your life to
your church, and what has it given you back? Betrayal. It is the
way with all such institutes of faith. The Pope in his Vatican
stronghold sells indulgences to his people; they buy salvation with
gold and diamonds. The English navy is little more than a band of
pirates, licensed by the Church. The man to whom you entrusted your
soul preaches the evils of debauchery and lust, and yet has spent
these last years lusting only for his disciple. For you.

“
The church has failed you.
It has taught you nothing that you did not already know for
yourself. Man is corrupt. Man is evil. And if man, Theroen, is
created in God’s image, then is not your God corrupt? Is not your
God evil? Do you not, in the depths of your heart, know
this?”

Theroen felt hot, angry tears on his cheeks.
In this, his last moment, he felt he knew it very well. Father
Leopold, the sinner, safe in his church under the eyes of God.
Theroen, the faithful servant, trapped here by a creature from the
very graves in which soon he was destined to lie.

The vampire caressed the contours of
Theroen’s face, grinning above him, seeming to delight in his
sorrow. “You are young and strong and beautiful, little priest, and
I am in need of an heir. I offer you the only chance for true
salvation you will ever receive. I offer you the opportunity to
defy your God, to renounce Him and His image. Renounce your
humanity and be reborn, remade, in my own image. Become immortal,
and escape the black hand of death.”

Thereon was gasping for breath. He tried to
force his mind to think rationally, tried to find the faith which
had once powered him so completely. He would let this faith guide
him into the afterlife, secure in his knowledge that God waited
there for him.

He found instead only a memory: the light
and sound of eternity from that hospital bed long ago, and his
words, spoken not by his mouth but his mind.

Yes. I would live. Until I am dragged,
kicking and screaming, to my death, I would live.

Here then was his death, and it would take
him regardless. Faith or no faith, acceptance or denial, death held
him now and offered only one way of escape.

The young are rash. Theroen, twenty-three,
with little practical experience outside the world of the church,
found his faith tested, and found it lacking. He leaned his head
back, bearing his neck to the creature that held him. Let it
happen. Let his body be remade in this image, and so chase away the
specter of death forever. What more evil could it bring than had
been allowed within the sanctified doors of his very church?

“
So be it,” Abraham
whispered. His neck arched, teeth bared, and there was pain … pain
like Theroen had never before felt. He screamed into the night, but
his voice drained away with his blood.

* * *

“
For ten years I raged in
my hatred against humanity with tooth and claw and mind. I took
women in pairs, quartets, more. Half a dozen a night I would drain
to the last, that I might drown my hate in blood. I was the very
image of Satan himself, presiding over heights of debauchery that
Father Leopold could never have conceived. They bathed in each
other’s blood, and I lapped it from their bodies, to the tune of
their cries of passion. They loved it. Oh, they loved
it.”